


When can I stop running?

by SqueebFish



Series: Different Dimensions of Love [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Healing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert, kinda slow burn, tonys sad, you have powers, you help make him happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:14:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24925984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueebFish/pseuds/SqueebFish
Summary: You're a worker at Stark Industries in hiding against the people who tried to take your power. An incidence occurs and suddenly you're working with the Avengers. This isn't exactly the anonymity you wanted, but maybe a certain genius billionaire will make it all worth it.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Reader
Series: Different Dimensions of Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803883
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	When can I stop running?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so Im gonna go ahead and say all of these characters might be super ooc. This is a far cry from my more 'serious'(lol) writing but ive been feeling so depressed i just wanted to write some reader insert stuff just cuz. Soooo i basically just wrote this and posted it, no proofreading, i have no idea where im going with it but thats just how this is going to be :)  
> OH and as for the timeline, i super dont know when it takes place? Honestly just fuck canon at this point tbh

Stark Industries, your workplace, an amazing haven for a mind such as yours, and the exact location you'd been hiding yourself for the last four years. You got the job through a fake resume, but you'd somehow managed to keep it without anyone finding out by learning as you went. You were a great improviser.

You’d had to be growing up with no parents, and a big secret. No one could know about the power you hid, it would be dangerous for you if anyone were to find out. You hated it. It wasn’t as if your dumb curse was actually dangerous, not unless you _wanted_ it to be. Your body just healed people, along with yourself, and if you were threatened, it did the… opposite. You could control it just fine, and even used it at work by playing it off as some kind of salve you’d invented; it was just vaseline and you’d heal the wound while you rubbed it on. But after last time… you had to be careful. If people found out, you’d be experimented on until your healing power could be extracted and marketed, or worse, until your destructive powers could be taken for granted.

Half of your job was managing the interns at the compound and making sure their experiments weren't dangerous enough to demolish the entire tower -- you'd check in four times a week -- and the other was being one of the many assistants to CEO of Stark Industries, Pepper Pots, You rarely met with her in person, maybe once every two or three weeks, and it was only ever for a minute. Most of your work happened over the phone through calls, or texting, since Ms. Potts was a very busy woman, and you had to keep track of all the interns Stark kept insisting on hiring. 

You’d never met the man but he sure was a direct influence on your life with all of the smart kids he kept finding. 

Your powers _definitely_ came in handy then, most of them tended to be pretty reckless, but none had seen through your ‘miracle salve’ lie. Whenever they asked, you’d always say it was a huge secret that was still pending for exposure to the public, and they all loved you, so no one breathed a word.

Your work helping Ms. Potts mostly had to do with making sure her meetings never overlapped -- and making sure she’d have enough time to do normal people things like eat. Another smaller part was fielding calls from reporters, fans, movie producers, or any people who wanted to talk to her, or the Avengers, and tell them to fuck off. Ms. Potts had a very short PR list of people she’d disclaim information to and all of them knew how to contact her, so anyone else had to go through you and about 15 other assistants.

You loved your job. You got to interact with amazing people and help them in their pursuit of science and the interactions with Ms. Potts were also a welcome reprieve from the stress of having to control so many projects. It also was blissfully away from any threat of exposure to who you really were. The name you’d put on the resume was fake, as well as all the background information you provided; fake ID, fake Social, fake everything.

Your old life could never find you here, and you were positive it never would.

* * *

“So, how is your progress, Mr. Parker?” You asked, looking down at your clipboard filled with information papers about the state of each intern. So far, the program had about 12 students, and Peter Parker was the last one for the day that you had to check on. He was your favorite, but you tried not to show it.

“I thought I found a way to up the tensile strength of my string, without having it loose any adhesive.” He muttered, looking over his notes and samples over the safety goggles he was required to wear. “But it made the sample too viscous, so I might have to start again.” He finished, glancing up at you with practically glazed over eyes. His focus was strong, you knew that, but it always surprised you how much he put himself in the work he did.

You couldn’t help smile at his tenacity. You wrote down what he told you in his file and asked the questions you were required to everytime you did this. _Do you feel that you have progressed further than the last session? Is this internship helping you push forward? Is this internship affecting your life outside of Stark Industries?_ Blah blah blah. Most of it was a health check for the students to make sure they weren’t burning themselves out. You were told all of the information you wrote down on a weekly basis was given to Tony Stark himself.

Peter answered them all almost automatically, none of his answers set off any red flags so you gave him a good review of continuance in the margins and went on the more freethinking part of your check up.

After you sat down loudly in the chair across from the lab table, he finally snapped out of whatever trance he had been in with this work and smiled sheepishly at you. “Sorry, I’ve been trying out different formulas all day, so I’ve been spacing out trying to think of new ones…”

You laughed at his nervousness, “It’s fine, really. I’m glad you’re so enamored with your ideas. Other people would have gotten frustrated and given up by now.” You say, looking over his notes with him. For about a minute, you just sit with him and offer a different viewpoint. You suggest changing a variable here and there, hoping the extra eyes can catch something he hasn’t. You do this with every one of the interns. They’re all young, and even with incredible genius, they are still teenagers. So you make sure to watch their calculations, and double check the chemical equations and offer an ear for anyone who wants to talk.

In the middle of looking through one of his failed samples, he shoots up in his chair, giving you a familiar excited look. “What do you have, Parker?” You ask warily. The last time you’d been given that look, Ms. Kensley had rushed to show you her progress with a faster foaming coolant, meant to be used for burn victims, and she’d tripped, soaking you with the substance. You had to use the chemical shower in your skivvies and the lab had to be evacuated early. She’d been so apologetic, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, even if the substance _was_ toxic -- which it wasn’t. You’d have healed by the next day anyway, provided you’d had enough sleep and food.

He rushed to one of the thicker side cabinets, carefully opening it with his gloved hands and gesturing inside. You couldn’t see from where you were, so you walked over to see a small sample dish of some web string fluid. You raised an eyebrow, “What is this?”

He somehow looked even more excited. “I completely forgot about it!” He exclaimed, picking the sample up carefully and bringing it back to the table. He cleared a space for it and set it down, being careful to slide it onto the table instead of dropping it down. You were concerned now. It wasn’t as though the interns were only dealing with perfectly safe chemicals, but this was the first you were hearing about this specific sample. You wracked your brain trying to figure out if he had said something about this last week but you came up with nothing. “I was experimenting with trying to infuse some sort of blast substance into my strings, but the result always came out too brittle to use. Not only that but something in my original web strings component made the blast not work at all.” You were simultaneously getting more and more concerned and mad. “But I finally found a formula where it all worked! It’s just really sensitive.” He admitted. Had he kept this from you? Not only was that incredibly dangerous, but it was completely against the rules of the internship. All happenings at the Stark Tech Lab were to be completely reported on to you no matter what. This could be grounds for dismissal, and, although you would never want to kick Peter out of this opportunity, this type of experimentation unsupervised was incredibly dangerous. 

“Why wasn’t I informed about this last session?” Your voice was hard as you turned your disapproving stare to him. He had the decency to blush and look guilty at least.

“I, actually, didn’t do this at the last lab session.” The words were small, scared.

You tamped down the flare of anger with a quick breath, “Do not tell me you were experimenting with _blast_ material at _home_.” You accuse, the concern and outrage dripping into your voice until you sounded almost like a parent scolding a child.

He shook his head hard at that, waving his arms back and forth quickly before he started to sputter, “Oh, no no no! May would kill me if I accidently blew up the apartment!” That did little to stop your emotions. His answer only meant he was somewhere else, and that wasn’t any more acceptable. 

“Peter, where did you make this?” You asked firmly, crossing your arms over your chest and staring him down.

He looked uncomfortable now, looking off to the side and bringing a hand to rub the back of his neck. He leaned against the counter looking more and more like a kid caught doing something he knows he shouldn’t have. “I, was, uh, well.. You see… I was being supervised elsewhere at Stark Industries.” He settled on that answer, finally looking back at you with the same uncomfortable expression.

You swear your eye was twitching. “Who was supervising you?” You ask, hoping to whatever god was out there that he would give you a real name so you could calm down and actually help him out with whatever he wanted help with. 

He leaned further into the table, his whole body seeming to slouch as he avoided your eyes, “Uhm, you see, uhh-”

“Who, Peter Parker?” You ask, using his full name, hoping it got across that you were not messing around.

It seemed to do the trick as he answered immediately, “Mr. Stark.” He looked down to the ground immediately, both hands gripping the table as he leaned back against it and slouched even further.

Your eye was definitely twitching now. _You_ hadn’t even met Tony Stark. A moment passed, and then a minute, and you were still trying to find a way to calm yourself down. Was he lying? There was no way, he was a sweet kid. But why would he be experimenting with the founder of this company Tony Stark. Not to say he wasn’t a brilliant kid, but there were 11 other brilliant kids, how was Peter any different? You took another breath, and closed your eyes, the solution to your strife coming to you as your head cleared. “Friday, could you please look up if Mr. Parker was being supervised by Mr. Stark earlier in the week?” 

“Unfortunately, that information is unavailable, as it is Mr. Starks private business.” You let out a sigh of relief. Despite her refusal of the question, it did tell that Peter was telling the truth. If he had never been in contact, Friday would have answered that Peter was not a part of Mr. Stark’s life at all. You opened your eyes with a sigh of relief to see Peter peeking up at you with a hopeful expression.

“I don’t know how you’re not lying, but I’m very happy you’re not.” You say, trying to figure out a solution as to why Stark would be helping Peter with his experiments. 

He shot straight back up, turning around with relief clear in his face. His hands went up in the air, and you realized what he was doing too late. It was something he always did when he thought he was in the clear of something bad happening. He’d slam his hands on the nearest surface and fall down into a crouch while he held himself steady. He slammed his hands down on the table in the same instant you reached forward to stop him. The blast from the webstring followed immediately after. You felt the heat and sting of gunpowder, as you were thrown. You saw Peter get blown back, flying as far as the cabinets. He wasn’t prepared for the blast, it hit him harder. The few seconds of the explosion felt like hours and seconds at the same time. You could see blood on Peter's face, his shirt was full of holes with glass peeking out. The dish it was in and those beside it had become shrapnell embedding itself in you and Peter. You can barely remember hitting the floor, before you were pushing yourself up. You stumbled over to the teen and kneeled beside him. Seeing his unconscious bloody face made you want to cry. You tried saying his name but the horrible ringing in your ears was only giving you pain. You knew you’d heal soon, but Peter wouldn’t.

There was so much blood on the floor, it looked like a piece of glass had nicked an artery, you didn’t have time. He’d bleed out in minutes. Friday would have alerted the authorities by now, but waiting wasn’t something you were planning to do. You put your hands over his chest, pushing lightly and focused on giving him all of your energy. You felt the familiar warmth of your power flowing from your fingertips, and you pushed harder, fighting through your own pain to rid him of his. He was just a kid. A reckless, genius kid. He was too young to die now.

You felt hot tears running down your face as you poured your entire self into him. When you opened your eyes again, his face was clear of cuts, glass littered the ground beneath him as the repaired skin pushed it out. Everything was blurry, but you kept on. You had to be sure he was healed, and he was still taking your energy so something hadn’t healed fully yet. Your vision was blurring. You hadn’t done something this drastic in a long time, and especially not when your body was in horrible shape as well. You had to make sure he lived. Peter was not going to die here. Another half minute of healing and your power finally starting pooling over him instead of going into him. Your vision was blurring worse now. God, what had he gotten hit with? The dizziness got worse, and black spots started to cloud your vision. Man, you'd not healed like that in years. The cold floor was a welcome cool to the rest of your hot skin.

* * *

Your head hurt like a bitch. What had happened? The memories of Peter and the lab came back to you like the snap of a rubber band, and your eyes shot open. You tried to sit up unsure of when you had been laid down but cuffs around your forearm had you falling back on the bed. After a quick wiggle of your body, you found there were other cuffs around your waist, wrists, ankles and thighs that kept you from moving more than a couple of inches in any direction. Panic seized you. Fuck, they had found you. Oh, _fuck_ they had found you.

A quick survey of the room and it did nothing to quell your anxiety. There was a chair, with a table in front of it, a wide mirror across the wall that mimicked those in police precincts, with a door positioned right next to it and the bed you were strapped to resembled a gurney. You slammed your head back against the bed, feeling idiotic for showing your powers so obviously. You know you’d do the exact same thing anyway for Peter, but it was still frustrating and scary to be locked up like this for it.

The sound of the door opening had you straining to sit up and get out of this horrible prison. You could fight if you’d just been out of this thing. You look to see who’s coming in and you don’t hide the surprise in your face when you see the one and only Tony Stark. You might have been a little starstruck if you weren’t completely immobilized by him.

His face is blank as he looks at you tied down, and he moves to sit in the chair, putting down a tablet you hadn’t seen him holding. “So,” His voice is flat, and you are at a loss of what to do, “Who do you work for?” There’s a sudden edge to the words.

You’re confused now. You literally work for him, was this a trick question? “I, uh, I work for you, M-Mr. Stark?” Your voice sounds timid in the almost empty room and you’re suddenly aware of how exhausted and sore your body is. 

He clicks his tongue at you, looking down at the tablet. “Emily Huck died five years ago.” Your blood runs cold at the mention of the fake name you’d been living under. He knows. “So, I am going to ask again nicely,” He looks back up at you, his eyes boring into yours, “Who do you work for?”

You have no idea what to say. You’re sure you look ridiculous, tied down to a hospital gurney, mouth open like a dumb fish not saying anything. Stark gives you no sympathy, “Come on, who is it? Shield? Hydra? Shield? It’s Fury, isn’t it? Planning something again, that bastard!” He exclaims to himself, lightly slamming a fist into the table. You jump, wanting to curl in on yourself. He stands up and stalks over to you, keeping his eyes on you the entire time, “Who. Is. It.” He repeats.

“I work for Ms. Potts.” You hope the truth saves you, but he just gets angrier. He does a 180, walking back to the table while he rubs a hand over his face.

“I am _certain_ that Pepper doesn’t have any weird magic doing people on her staff, so try again.” He’s harsh, and you’re certain you’re screwed.

A deep voice pipes up booming through the room, “Tony, maybe lay off, she looks terrified.” They know about your magic.

Stark gives a look to the window, you can’t see what it is, but you think it’s probably something that says ‘hell no’. “She could’ve killed Peter, Cap.” The words hang in the air over you and whoever was on the other end of the mirror. 

Your mouth speaks before your brain can fully decide on what to say, “I would never hurt him.” 

Stark whips around to face you. “Then what did you do to him?” He accused, his eyes almost crazy.

“I didn’t do anything to him! He triggered the explosion, I tried to stop him from slamming the table.” You try to explain, but your head is pounding and your panic is getting harder to control inside of you. If your anxiety got out of hand, then it could trigger your body to deflect, and you really didn’t want to hurt anyone.

“After that, you had your hands on him, and now he isn’t waking up. So, what the hell did you do?!” He screamed, taking a step toward you with a pointed finger.

Another wave of panic and you felt the restraint on yourself loosen. You were exhausted. Healing Peter took more out of you than you realized, and with your body healing itself as well, you were in trouble. You needed food, and sleep, and rest, not a billionaire yelling in your face. A sliver of your deflection filtered out from the anxiety seeping through you and you cursed yourself.

Stark faltered in his step, his hand falling as he almost tripped. His breathing doubled in that second, “What are you doing?” He was scared.

He should be. Your deflections were hell to go through. “I’m sorry, I’m exhausted, and having a panic attack, I can’t control myself well under this type of stress.” You were panting now too, trying to keep yourself from being fully pulled into your attack. You felt so hot, everything was too much. In his shocked silence you decide to explain yourself quickly, hoping maybe he’d leave if you did. “Peter was showing me a sample he’d made with you. He wanted advice on how to tone the sensitivity of the blast down. I grilled him on where and when he’d made this since it’s protocol for all experiments to be recorded, and he slammed his hands down on the table when he was in the clear. That triggered the explosion. He was… He was bleeding so much, I thought some glass might have hit a bad spot.” You struggled through the memories, seeing Stark focus on you and your explanation, instead of on the weighted air of the room. “I healed him. I… I can heal people. I’ve been in hiding from some awful people who kidnapped me a couple years ago, I got a job here with that fake name, and I promise, I would _never_ hurt Peter or any of the other students here.” You finish by staring him down, hoping he could see the honesty in your eyes.

He doesn’t say anything for a long minute. He just stares at you with glazed eyes before finally, “Friday, any signs of deception?”

“No signs of deception found.” Came the immediate answer, and Stark shut his eyes. He leaned back against the table and put a hand over his mouth. Another long moment, and then he dropped it, choosing instead to cross his arms and hunch. “Why isn’t he waking up then?” He practically whispered the question.

Oh. Of course they don’t know. The previous panic you’d been feeling faded some at Stark's calmer disposition but now the concern he was showing made sense. “Peter sustained a life threatening injury.” Stark immediately looked to you, his eyebrows furrowing at your unprompted talking. “Part of how my power works is I draw specific energy from myself to assist in healing the other person. The other part is using the person’s own bodily energy to finish and speed up the healing process. His body is exhausted. He probably won’t wake up for a couple of days because of how worn out his mental and physical state probably is.” His expression softened at your explanation and you hope you’re in the clear for whatever the hell is happening. You just want a bed, and maybe some sort of pasta dish to eat.

“Friday, release the restraints.” Stark announces and immediately all of them unclasp you. You breathe a sigh of relief. You push yourself into a sitting position ignoring how awful every movement feels and take a deep breath. “Sorry about that, I’m a very cautious person.” He explains, rubbing the back of his neck.

You attempt to shake your head, but it doesn’t work all that well, so you try speaking, “I’s fine. I’d be worried about Peter, too.” Your words sound slurred and you wonder for a second as you try to stand up if you should try to stand up at all. Your knees buckle as soon as they touch the floor, and you’re pleasantly surprised to feel firm arms around you instead of a hard concrete floor. Your dazed eyes meet Stark’s concerned ones and you smile.

He has really pretty eyes, is your last coherent thought before you’re pushed into unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave reviews and guesses to how this is going to end up XD  
> (Also sorry peter parker got used as a plot device)


End file.
